Children will listen

A friend of mine is having a baby and someone's throwing her a baby shower, although she generally despises such things as displays of suburban bourgeoise conformity and obligatory materialism (baby showers, not babies) so I called to ask her what she'd actually like.

"Books," she said.

"Oh, so you can read something while you nurse? Sure thing."

"No, books for the baby. See, everyone will be getting me stuff for infants, but that's really a short time in a child's life. I'd really like some picture books for when the baby's a little older."

So I went to a bookshop and bought her some of my favorite books from when I was a very little girl. Thirty years ago, and almost all the books I remember loving when I was a toddler are still in print. I wondered if some of them would be too old-fashioned-- can a little girl in 2006 Los Angeles fathom picking blueberries in Maine-- but figured that it would be no more or less alien than sailing away for a year and a day to the land where the bong trees grow, or where the wild things roar their terrible roars and gnash their terrible teeth and roll their terrible eyes and show their terrible claws.

( Picture book nostalgia )

I watched the election with a little boy asleep beside me on the couch. Papersky, more eloquent than I, wrote a poem.

Children will listen

A friend of mine is having a baby and someone's throwing her a baby shower, although she generally despises such things as displays of suburban bourgeoise conformity and obligatory materialism (baby showers, not babies) so I called to ask her what she'd actually like.

"Books," she said.

"Oh, so you can read something while you nurse? Sure thing."

"No, books for the baby. See, everyone will be getting me stuff for infants, but that's really a short time in a child's life. I'd really like some picture books for when the baby's a little older."

So I went to a bookshop and bought her some of my favorite books from when I was a very little girl. Thirty years ago, and almost all the books I remember loving when I was a toddler are still in print. I wondered if some of them would be too old-fashioned-- can a little girl in 2006 Los Angeles fathom picking blueberries in Maine-- but figured that it would be no more or less alien than sailing away for a year and a day to the land where the bong trees grow, or where the wild things roar their terrible roars and gnash their terrible teeth and roll their terrible eyes and show their terrible claws.

( Picture book nostalgia )

I watched the election with a little boy asleep beside me on the couch. Papersky, more eloquent than I, wrote a poem.